


Captured

by Spumoni_BerryBoney



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Flirting, M/M, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22800889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spumoni_BerryBoney/pseuds/Spumoni_BerryBoney
Summary: Tags and stuff to be updated later, because pHoNe.Apparently the summary is what happens if the Inquisition story never happened, and Mahanon joins Bull's Chargers. Anyway, the Bull lets the Lavellan Clan capture him, to investigate the claims of a noble that hired him about the Dalish kidnapping children. He finds himself at the "mercy" of a one Mahanon.Yeah, idk, pretty confident I was drunk when I wrote this.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Male Lavellan
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	1. A "Tent"illating Interrogator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest here. I don't remember writing these two chapters, and there were a lot of typos, so this may not have been written sober. There's an entire outline.  
> Like. No idea if I'll even finish this, but here, have some non-canon, probably unrealistic, and potentially OOC writing. 
> 
> (Important notes: if you're seeing this from the DBH fandom, no, I haven't forgot. If you're just here reading this, no not sure if it'll go explicit because my ace ass is Always Tired and porn involves Effort and Research and I just wanna Sleep.)

The Qun was the only guiding star in an endless black of madness. From birth, Hissrad breathed the words and order that the Qun gave him and all the qunari. If guidance was ever needed, the Qun provided. They observed him, and placed him. Gave him orders that permitted his life to have meaning, in a world that otherwise lacked any. Kept the madness away, a poison that seemed to leak from the Fade and into his core when no direction was to be had. 

Far from Par Vollen, the Qun’s words still followed Hissrad with orders written in coded letters. Here, Hissrad was simply known as, “The Iron Bull.” A ‘Tal-Vashoth’ in everything but truth, leading a mercenary band across the lands as a cover that he never bothered to hide under. Everyone that worked for him knew. Anyone worth keeping would figure it out, and relations were built on open communication. Jobs led him everywhere, and the mercenary work led him to making contacts and learning plenty of the Thedas’ underbelly to relay back home. 

That work was why he was in the Free Marches currently, coming to from a nap he didn’t recall taking. One grey eye opened, and the first thing he saw was the fabric of a hut. Letting it travel, connecting the dots of the support beams that were tied to be collapsible. As a test, he shifted - ropes were around his wrists, holding his arms behind his back and around the lone support beam of the hut. He felt no weapons on him, nor what little armor he bothered with. Simply his pants and the feel of his eyepatch. Everything else was gone. 

The Iron Bull was offended. Really? These elves believed some rope would succeed in holding him? _Guess I’ll ask my guard_ , he reasoned, the shadow of a lithe form on the ground all-too telling he wasn’t alone in his ‘prison.’ If this could even be called a prison. “...Your clan seriously only gave me one guard? I'm hurt.” The Iron Bull grumbled, voice deep and graveled with a feigned offense. A slight smile hit his mouth, rolling his shoulders and head to look towards the form in front of him. 

Clan Lavellan was not very far from Wycome, and considering The Iron Bull had instigated a fight with them there was no guesswork involved to know this was the Dalish camp. Sitting on their toes, leaning forward on their knees while their palm cupped the side of their face was one of the elves. Their cheek was pushed upwards, fingers thin like twigs drumming along the side of their face while one thin brow arched at their captive. Dainty shoulders, slim waists with wider hips. Tiny effeminate bodies, and an affinity for long hair no matter the gender - guessing an elf’s sex was at times a practice in futility. Even moreso if it happened to be a two-spirit Dalish elf. The Iron Bull wasn’t even going to pretend he knew.

“I told them you would have killed and injured more of us than you did, were that your intent. I’m not worried. Besides, I move faster than you.” The elf answered, a deeper voice lined with an intonation many called an accent, but always sounded like a coated politeness to words to The Iron Bull. This was probably a two-spirit or a man. Or maybe something else, the Bull wasn’t as privvy to the Dalish as he should have been, if he were to be honest. Conversion wasn’t his job.

“Damn. Was I that obvious?" The Iron Bull asked, his grin widening as he took note the distance between his bound body and the elf’s spot. His captor made sure if the Bull lunged forward, he wouldn’t have been able to quite reach the elf before they could scramble away. Not a guard so much as an inquisitor, it seemed. A slight curve pulled at the edge of the elf’s left side of their face, almost touching a long scar that ran along their cheek. A scar that stood out darkly against pale skin, a light complexion that surprised the Bull it wasn’t more red being outside as much as the elves were. Intricate designs were tattooed on the elf’s face, a standard for ‘free’ elves. Or whatever they believed to be free. Constantly running and hiding from human oppressors wasn’t the Bull’s idea of free, but whatever.

“Yes, and judging by your tone subtlety wasn't an intent either.” The elf commented, that ghost of a smile lingering on the one side almost playfully. 

Oh, yes. The Bull could very much enjoy being interrogated by this one. He knew a flirt when he saw one.

"Even knowing this, you still tied me up? What, hoping I'll be into this sort of thing, just jump right into riding the bull, eh?" The Iron Bull laughed, nodding his head towards his lap and being grateful the elves did nothing to tie his horns to the pole. That would have gotten uncomfortable, quickly. 

“No. I simply couldn't convince them the bindings were a waste of effort and supplies. I realize as your 'captor' I'm asking a lot, but please don't break those. It's good rope. I'd like it for prisoners that can't snap it with little more effort than a good flex.” The elf requested, motioning towards the Bull’s biceps while eyes too bright of a green to be natural, stayed on the qunari’s face. Bull did catch the elf’s eyes starting to move down, before forcing their gaze back up once more. There was a definite interest. Or at least curiosity. Bull was fine with both.

“You checking me out, Elf?” The Iron Bull inquired, teeth showing with how wide his grin was becoming. 

“And if I am?” The elf shot back, the slight quirk in their brow transforming into an almost challenging one. The smile broke the other side of their lips, the bored posture straightening with the elf’s interest.

“You have excellent tastes, carry on.” The Iron Bull laughed, finding pleasure in this turn of events. When he first enacted on his plan to let the Clan Lavellan capture him, this was not how he expected to wake. There were supposed to be more whips and chains, warrior elves holding blades at his neck and demanding an explanation. Had planned for complications to arise when Krem sent the signal letting him know the Chargers obtained the information they needed, so Bull could return with what he collected.

This was quickly becoming an easy job. The only complication he could foresee, was that this camp most certainly had a mage in it that knew how to put a qunari of his size flat on his face snoozing the day away.

“Names, then. I am Mahanon. And you?” The elf finally introduced themself, settling their other arm across their lap. 

“The Iron Bull. Having an article in the front is very important. Nice ring to it. Makes it sound like I’m not even a person. Just a mindless weapon, an implement of destruction. Or some very enjoyable wrecking.” The Iron Bull said, a brow wagging with as much invitation as he could muster, without breaking the ropes and patting his lap with a soft, ‘so hop on, then.’ Mahanon laughed, the hand on their face shifting to cover it entirely in order to chuckle in their palm. “If you catch my drift. Both really work for me. One more than the other. Care to find out which?”

“Not today.” Mahanon answered between laughs, finally pulling their hand away to settle it in their lap as well. The right hand took their left by the wrist, using a thumb to softly massage the skin. “I watched you knock quite a few of my people around already, I would prefer to not be added to that number with you using a different two-handed weapon.” 

“It’s only a one-handed weapon for me.” The Iron Bull countered.

“I meant for me, but you would know best so if it would be one-handed for an elf, as well…” Mahanon trailed, that ghostly smile still there with mischievous green eyes curving upwards as they spoke.

“Oh, it’s definitely two-handed for you. Or more, if you want to invite a friend. I’m a team player.” The Iron Bull offered, relishing the easiest interrogation he had ever been subjected to receiving. If only all of them were this playful. 

No, this would likely be the only time. It was a rare day that someone didn’t just jump to the worst case scenario and act on it. The Iron Bull doubted many other Dalish camps offered reasonable members such as this one. Mahanon was an exception, not a rule. A fact cemented by how, despite noticing the Bull’s attempts to not actually kill anyone, he was still tied up. By the Word of the Qun, he was going to enjoy every second of it. 

With luck, in a way that involved a lot more nudity than what was happening right then. Mahanon was still fully clothed, wearing thin fabrics of browns and greens to remain cool in the warming spring temperatures. 

“Perhaps another time. I still need to know what your goal is. Business before pleasure, and all that.” Mahanon tutted, their long fingers moving to gently thumb their palm, before sliding up to massage fingers. The action was detached, all of the elf’s focus on the Bull. 

“Or, to save time, we could combine the two.” The Iron Bull countered, another attempt at wagging his brow in his best impression of playful suggestion. One last try at that nudity thing, before he would just have to accept Mahanon’s will was far above their libido. 

“Can’t ask you questions if my mouth is full, now can I?” Mahanon pointed out, and yes, that was an image the Bull was very much going to enjoy for the next few days. Elves were a generic sort of pretty, the kind in which once you saw one elf you basically saw them all. Even so, they remained easy on the eyes and the image of that mouth wrapped around his member was just as enjoyable.

“You’re really gonna say shit like that, and then turn around and say no? You’re a fuckin’ tease. Gonna make me break these damn ropes by accident.” The Iron Bull grumbled, allowing his body to relax best it could against the beam. 

“Please try not to.” Mahanon repeated, closing their eyes while shaking their head slightly. Dark brown locks fell about, thin braids rocking with the motion. A few were beginning to come undone, and it was as inviting as it was telling. The elf was bored waiting for the Bull to wake, and had taken to braiding their hair to pass time. “You’re really not going to tell me your plans?”

“Sorry, can’t focus right now. You painted me a pretty picture to fixate on, so it’s a little difficult to focus on anything other than wondering what you sound like choking on something _big_.” The Iron Bull shrugged, the roll of his shoulders starting dismissive before pausing, all but feeling the strain the larger movement put on the ropes. Across the way, Mahanon tilted their head with an amused grin, and another raised brow. Just for him.

“Be a bit more cooperative, and maybe you’ll get to hear it.” Mahanon offered or teased, the Bull was not yet certain. The vibe and expressions said both, but the qunari was still learning the other’s self-control. The elf stood up, and their hands switched places - now the left was tending to the right hand. “I’ll grab you some food and water. Tomorrow, I’ll ask again.”

“I have been known to say a lot when shown a bit of leg. You know. Just a suggestion for tomorrow.” The Iron Bull said, doing his best impression of a wink with his lone eye. The elf smiled at him, only to roll their eyes.

“I will consider it. Thank you, oh gracious of the qunari, for your imparted wisdom on how to seduce the answers from you.” With the sarcasm implanted within their words, Mahanon gave the Bull a mockery of a bow, before taking their leave.

That conversation was far too short, and ended way too quickly. Not that the length mattered, as the Bull got a fair start to the information he had come to collect. Assuming Mahanon was not an exceptionally skilled rogue that knew how to slip past all the techniques taught by the qunari. That would take more worldly experience than was likely for a Dalish elf clan an entire ocean away from the Qun homelands. 

***  
***  
***

The next day, other elves came into the tent. These ones did have the blades the Bull had been anticipating, and he wasn't surprised to see them. The group could be silent as death, but having Mahanon scold them as they walked destroyed any stealth they otherwise would have walked with. At the front of the group, wearing a frown so deep it cut nearly to the bottom of their chin, was an elf with silvery blonde hair. Gray eyes couldn't look at the Bull, because Mahanon made their presence known as they pushed through the group. 

"I have already spoken with the Keeper, we're not shoving him into a cage!" Mahanon scowled, standing up straight to block the group from the Bull. Keeping his mouth shut, the Bull simply enjoyed the view that was Mahanon's backside. A nice arch to their lower back, and flanks that offered something to grab on the body of skin and bone. Nice. 

"The qunari is dangerous." The blonde elf responded, that frown still there. "You pointed out his intention wasn't to hurt, but none of us know what it is. We cannot leave the prisoner unsupervised." They continued. The group wore thicker armor, a blend of metal and leather for protection and functionality. Elves weren't especially known for their strength, but many made up for it with flexibility. The Iron Bull witnessed this many times with Skinner, Dalish, and Gatt. 

None of them could overpower most opponents, but they could hurt in ways strength couldn't. It was poetry written with blades.

"Could I trouble you to tell me what language, 'can get up and walk off at any time,' translates into 'prisoner?' Because it isn't this one." Mahanon inquired with ease, body straight and the Buil could picture those green eyes full of challenge. Daring the other to say they were wrong. A few of the other elves in the group snickered, and the Bull couldn't stop the snort that escaped him. 

Unfortunately for Blondie, they were also pale and the faintest flush of frustration that struck their cheeks was immediately visible. 

"You're endangering the entire clan, Mahanon." Blondie accused instead, and with a sharp spin on their heel marched out of the hut. They raised their hand at the door, and motioned for the group to follow. A pair of stragglers paused at the entrance, both giggling. 

One looked at Mahanon and snickered, "Is it because you like 'big dicks?'" The elf made a motion with their hands, not lewd in gesture. 

"Oh, yes. You know me. Just can't get enough of a 'big' dickening. That's what this is all about." Mahanon sighed, a few of their own chuckles leaving them. 

"If you decide to take a spin on that one, a few of the ladies have questions." The two elves laughed together. 

"Crazy thing, I have two ears that hear everything." The Iron Bull commented, his voice deep enough to get the last two members of the group to scatter with more giggles and mocking cries. "I'm gonna take a wild guess: Blondie likes to overcompensate." He asked, wondering if he was actually going to get that second round of interrogation he was promised. 

"Blondie? Ah. Him. That's a way to word for it." Mahanon laughed, turning around to face the Bull. Their arms were crossed, and their feet sat perpendicular from their shoulders as they stood. An imposing stance if elves didn't look like a strong breeze would scatter them. 

"You here to show me some leg?" The Iron Bull asked hopefully. 

"No, I'm here to ask questions. You know that." Mahanon stated, a smile quirking at the edge of their lips while they shook their head. 

"No leg, even after I gave you such good advice." The Iron Bull sighed wistfully, his grin back on because oohhhh yes, this was what he had been waiting for. 

Since yesterday, a few of the elves had poked in. Mostly curious, a few harder stares of disapproval mixed in. One or two children made an appearance, and the Bull gave them silly faces the adults would call active imaginations. He listened to them, through the hut's fabric walls. Heard Mahanon's voice at times, directing or asking questions. 

Keepers were typically the leaders of Dalish clans, and the recent interaction confirmed that Mahanon was not this one's. Still, the clan listened to them. That was an important note. 

"No answers, no leg." Mahanon replied with a careless shrug. "How are your arms doing?"

"What a kind captor, fretting over lil' me. My shoulders are feeling a bit stiff, if you want to massage them…" The Iron Bull trailed.

"Your shoulders are what you want me to massage." Mahanon nodded their head slowly, brows raising in doubt. "I'm worried about the ropes. If you get uncomfortable, you'll break them. Let me know if you need them loosened." 

"You're placing a lot of trust in me, Boss." The Iron Bull said, leaning back against the pole. One thoughtful gray eye on the elf, assessing.

"Mahanon does not translate into 'Boss.' As for my offer, it's less about trust and more seeing a situation for what it is. You're here for a purpose. When it's filled, you'll leave and we won't be able to stop you. Not without sustaining injuries - real ones - when that time comes. I just want to know what it is. Get you in and out, nice and quick. I'm sure you're a fan of quick." Mahanon winked at the last part, tone jesting. A balance of seeking their answers, while keeping the conversation light. 

"There's where you're wrong, Boss. I love to take my sweet time, going as much in as I can." The Iron Bull promised, adding a growl to his words more for reaction than expectation. Mahanon paused, eyes widening slightly as their pupil dilated some. A cough, and the elf actually averted their gaze. 

Confirming what someone was into was always a delight for the Bull. Especially when it aligned with his own preferences.

“Here, I’ll be nice. I’ll answer a question or two for you, if you’ll untie these so I can stretch. Deal?” The Iron Bull offered, leaning his head forward in earnest. The elf had offered, and the Bull’s knees and ass were beginning to ache having so much limitation in sitting positions. The flap that acted as a door to the hut remained closed, and the shadows that filtered through weren’t defined enough for him to know exactly where he was in the clan’s home. There would be little tactical advantage in this, aside from perhaps allowing it to sink into Mahanon’s mind how much smaller they were in comparison to the qunari. If the current trend were to remain, the elf would find it more attractive than terrifying. 

“Not into being bound?” Mahanon asked, voice airy as they spoke. Their legs carried them around to behind the Bull, leaning down to begin undoing the ropes. The steps were calculated, and the playful tone in the elf’s words were more guarded. 

“More into doing the tying than being tied. Doesn’t do much for you when you know you can break out. Feels too fake, forced.” The Iron Bull explained, keeping his body relaxed to give Mahanon an easier time. Voice steady, letting himself speak honestly so as to not distract the other. Deft fingers released the knots, and the ropes tumbled to the ground from the Bull’s wrist. Sliding them out from behind the pole and his back, the Bull was careful to not accidentally catch the elf’s legs bringing his arms forward. Groaning, he leaned his body forward with his fingers reaching towards toes he knew he could not touch. Pops and cracks rippled from the bones in his back and shoulders, a long and satisfied sigh passing the qunari’s lips. 

Ignoring the eyes that watched him, or how Mahanon backed so there was space between the two once more, the Bull continued stretching and shifting his torso. Releasing the tension and discomfort between shoulder blades. At length, The Iron Bull stood with his horns barely grazing the top of the hut. Just as he expected, the elf seemed to barely reach the middle of his chest. There was not much need for this sort of headroom for the elves, but at least the Bull wasn’t finding himself accidentally poking holes in the ceiling. 

The Iron Bull’s muscles felt significantly better, but still not nearly stretched enough. He wanted to do more, but there was a job to do. 

“You are quite possibly the neediest ‘prisoner’ we’ve ever had.” Mahanon commented from behind. The Iron Bull turned around, flashing a far too pleased smile at the other. 

“And you’re in my Top Five Favourite Captors. You’d take the number one spot - “

“If I showed you some leg?” Mahanon finished, that slight smile returning followed by a sarcastic fluttering of eyelashes.

“-...Damn, I just really want to say ‘tits’ now, but you’d know I’m lying.” The Iron Bull clucked his tongue, earning a few laughs from the elf. “Do you have tits though? It’s so damn hard to tell with you elves sometimes.”

“Everyone has tits, Bull. You most certainly do, gives you a nice full figure.” Mahanon complimented.

“Oh, thank you so kindly for noticing.” The Iron Bull laughed, placing his hands on his pectorals and patting them twice fondly, before allowing his hands to fall back to his sides. 

“I’d be a fool to not notice, especially after you gave me permission to yesterday.” Mahanon reminded them both. “You ask if I have tits, but you just really want to know what pronoun I use, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been a bit nosy. Not important. Your walk says you’re a man, but with you Dalish things aren’t that straightforward.” The Iron Bull admitted, rolling his shoulders carelessly as he kept his eye trained on the elf. 

“The decision to inquire instead of assume is appreciated. You may freely call me ‘he.’” Mahanon’s hint of a smile turned into a genuine one, and the Bull was grateful he had gotten some basic cultural help from one of his Chargers he fondly called Dalish. There was not much time to learn everything, but enough that this piece was at least paying off. “There’s just one issue, though…” As Mahanon trailed his thoughts off, the Bull made a curious grunt towards him. Already suspicious of what that issue was. “ _You_ are asking _me_ questions. This is a bit backwards from our agreement.”

“Hmm? Oh. Oh! Yes. Right. You should be bending forwards, it’ll be much easier one your back-”

“I’m not bending over for you, Bull, I am asking why are you are here.” Mahanon was quick enough to interrupt, trying to push down a smile and the faintest pinks to his ears. Hands went back to massaging wrists distractedly, and a few laughs left the elf. “You are making this unnecessarily difficult.” 

“Says the elf who intentionally says shit to get me hard, and _won’t_ hop on my lap.” The Iron Bull accused in a joking tone. As if to further make his point, the qunari motioned towards his crotch. “Almost every sentence out of your mouth, is an inch closer to full mast.”

“An inch, eh? How far back is it tucked away there, because we’ve spoken enough I should see something by now.” Mahanon’s retort was swift, green eyes mischievous and playful once more. “Also, I’m not even sure I could fit on your lap. I’m about the size of your left thigh. Probably weigh less, too.” 

“Specifically my left thigh?” The Iron Bull asked, lips tightening while he narrowed his eye at the other. 

“It’s bigger than your right leg.” Mahanon shrugged, the smile starting to get back under control but the pink on the ears was still there. 

“We’re both leg people, good to know.” The Iron Bull laughed, pulling his arms back at an angle, cracking more spots in his back with a few more grunts. “Ah, that was fun. So. Info. I’m a spy for the Ben-Hassrath. Collect intel. Report back. The whole show, all across Thedas. Your lot happened to be the lucky draw this time. Feelin’ special?”

“So they sent their spy into the middle of the woods, to flirt with a bunch of elves?” Mahanon inquired, words slow and careful in their wording. The elf frowned, brows knitting together as the logic was lost on him entirely.

“The Qun works in mysterious ways. Just thought you should know. You've been eyeing me since I got here, so figured between your fingering sessions you'd figure it out. Just like to be up front.” The Iron Bull explained easily, throwing in some of his own hopes and guesswork in the mix. Get the other caught up in all the details of what he did say, in order to distract the focus from what he didn’t.

For his part, Mahanon’s mouth fell open slightly, the brows coming undone to rise high as they could on his forehead, creating thin wrinkles across the way. Green eyes went wide, and the pink traveled from those pointed ears to high cheekbones. Fingers stopped massaging palms and wrists, as if frozen by getting caught.

By the Qun, it felt good to be right. Especially about something like that.

Clearing his throat, fingers going back to work, Mahanon animated himself once more with a few breathy chuckles that were music to the Bull’s ears. Tilting his head slightly, brown locks tumbling across pale skin Mahanon’s lips twitched in a brief smile and he asked with a purr in his voice, “You'd like to watch me finger myself, wouldn't you?” 

A warmth hit the Bull’s stomach, the sultry and half-lidded eyes certainly sending signals that traveled downwards even if those greens didn’t. 

“Fuck yes. Could you do that now?" The words left The Iron Bull’s mouth, because damn, if the elf was willing why not? 

“Absolutely not." And just like that, the look was gone. The only indication it had been there was the flush that lingered on the elf’s face, Mahanon’s eyes glancing away in false disinterest. 

“How about later?” The Iron Bull asked, that heat in his belly still there and wanting to stir further but the sudden cold shoulder was dampening the mood. 

“That's a definite no." Mahanon said, wincing as he tended to his hands. Stopping to look down at his actions, before sighing and crossing his arms. Something about his hands clearly bothered him. An idea hit the Bull. Odds were, the answer would remain the same but it was difficult to back down when a damn elf made his dick twitch with interest based on empty promises.

“Can I finger you later?" Came the offer, because if the elf hurt himself with too much personal action, the Bull was all too happy to help. While naked. 

“No.” A swift, short, and unsurprising answer.

“You're a tease, you know that?” The Iron Bull huffed out a breath, before dragging his feet to drop his body back down to the ground. One last stretch of his arms, before he held them behind his back and waited for the elf to ‘bind’ him once more. A minute passed in which Mahanon didn’t move or respond, and then the Bull felt the airy movements of lithe fingers tying rope around his wrists. 

“Says the mostly naked man that sprawls himself out to anyone with eyes." Mahanon finally answered, grunting as he worked the binding to remain loose but appear tight. 

“If you hop on, promise I won't stop you. Open invitation." One last attempt, and after that the Bull was just going to accept defeat for a second day in a row. This would have been less frustrating if the other elves were allowed in, more options to seduce and have someone ride out the frustration he was feeling by straddling him. Instead, there was one Mahanon that seemed to take a certain amusement in consistently blue-balling him.

“Still a pass." Mahanon echoed, walking around the Bull in a wide circle to maintain distance. 

“Fucking damn, Mahanon.” The Iron Bull grunted, slouching against the pole. “Is this how you treat your guests?” 

“Guests talk.” Mahanon answered easily as he walked over to the hut’s flap, pausing at it. With a slight tease of a smile, those lashes half-lidding in that delectable gaze again he added, “Guests get what they ask for, when they give me what I want.” And with that, he left The Iron Bull alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those that left Kudos. You're very brave, and I respect the fuck out of you. 
> 
> You cuties are the MVPs that keep nerds like me going. And yes you're cute, I have graphs that makes this science. 
> 
> Also important: Yes I'm aware there are lots of supplements to DA lore, but if it's not on the wiki page then I don't know about it. And I'm not rewriting anything (unless it's problematic, at which point please tell me), because this is purely for fun.
> 
> Also also important: hoping you are all doing okay. ♡ There's so much going on, I hope you can find safety and solace ♡

In the Qun, there was no such thing as family. Not in the sense that Thedas had it. A ‘family’ within the Qun were those who were close to each other. During his years in Seheron, Hissrad’s family were his units. Each of them just as important to the next, and each time one went from life to husk it embedded a wound inside of Hissrad. Far from Seheron, The Iron Bull found himself with a new set of ‘family.’ The Bull’s Chargers were regarded as bas by the Ben-Hassrath, but they were a crew the Bull stood by firmly. The lot made his blending in that much easier, and as his job had never been conversion the term rarely changed for how his members were addressed.

A few every now and then would ask The Iron Bull about the Qun, and he never shied away from discussing his beliefs, his home. If someone was interested in converting, it was his duty to assist in the ways he could, and direct them to those that would help in ways he couldn’t. Any mercenary that joined him knew who they were working for - and that was a qunari spy. Of all the members that fell into his group, Krem had been the most pleasant of surprises. Born in Tevinter, but with a more solid head on his shoulders, Krem had been worth the eye Bull lost and more ever since he joined. A strong soldier, and even stronger second-in-command. The two fell into a system together, the human earning many nicknames in the process. 

A system that, after four days of being in Clan Lavellan, the Bull was missing. Each morning with the Chargers, The Iron Bull would finish reading a letter from the Ben-Hassrath or simply going over orders from times past. Krem would stop by him and ask, “We need to worry about you stabbing our backs today, Chief?” New recruits were always horrified by how blase Krem was with his question, at having even heard such a suggestion be made to the massive beast of a man they called their boss.

“Nah. Maybe tomorrow.” Was the Bull’s favourite way of responding most mornings, but he shook it up on occasion to not allow himself to fall into a pattern. The openness of that early morning communication set-up a greater comfort for the Bull’s Chargers at large. The crew was eager and ready to feel secure with Krem, a human of which was a more familiar sight than that of a qunari. If Krem was satisfied with the Bull’s promise of no treachery, the rest of them fell in suit quickly. 

The Bull had been since satisfied about his suspicions regarding the Dalish camp, which left his only amusement until Krem signaled to be the visits from Mahanon. Visits which were never long enough. As for the curious peekers between... Quite a few shuffled away with giggles and gasps when the Bull murmured suggestively to a few, “Hey, need a ride?” 

If this perturbed Mahanon in any way, he never showed it. The elf was more inclined to try and shoo onlookers away than to be upset with the Bull. This arrangement was fine enough, except when this included the two elves who responded to the invitation with, “Yes.” 

That was just mean on Mahanon’s part. 

Aside from the nosy ones, the sounds of the Dalish living their lives was constant and normal. Conversations about needs, if the camp had enough of this or that. Hunting parties planning together, most of their words muffled but key words said enough. There were sounds of children laughing, and the ones who tended those children chasing them around. No sounds of rituals for demons, or children screaming for their mothers. No immediate evil, except Mahanon’s cock-blocking. Didn’t matter that was Mahanon’s duty, to keep the elves off of the Bull’s dick metaphorically and literally speaking. The act was still cruel, regardless of intent. 

Just as The Iron Bull suspected, the noble had been lying. The signs were there, as the man was too much like a swindler attempting to use sleight of hand to distract from the tricks being used. The nearby Dalish were not kidnapping the children of Wycome for blood rituals or to summon demons. The camp gave no indication of even being aware children at the human city were going missing. Given the history between the two races, and the treatment of the elven kin within alienages, the camp probably wouldn’t have even cared except to move to protect their own young.

Which left the noble to be a suspect himself, or protecting the real culprit. Either way, the Bull knew he would have to go and cleave Duke Antoine into two. At minimum two pieces, but more if time allowed. Afterwards, with the children found and freed, the Bull could stroll into the tavern and grab one of the barmaids. They had made comments and passes before he was ‘captured,’ and he imagined the process to be easy enough. And after Mahanon, he needed some kind of release. Last night, when he asked if Mahanon would untie him so he could jerk off, the answer was ‘no.’ Or, it was no until the Bull politely explained the ropes were coming off one way or another - he was just being nice and asking.

The trick was being quiet, but rubbing two out last night made today easier. 

A day not much different from the other days, as still no Krem. 

The Iron Bull was really starting to miss the vint. 

The evening was rolling in, the light staining the fabric dark oranges and reds. Dinner would be arriving in a few hours, and admittedly it was nice. Sort of reminded the Bull of home. The Dalish actively worked together to ensure everyone was taken care of, and that included their ‘prisoner.’ Different from the Qun, the similarity remained and it gave him a strange homesickness he wasn’t used to feeling. One that, anytime it bubbled up, he drank it back down with liquor and sex.

As he wondered at asking for any kind of Dalish liquor from Mahanon, an explosion sounded. Several shouts and yelps followed suit. 

There it was, the signal. The Chargers had everything they needed, except their leader. Eagerly, he flexed his arms, pulling at the threads that pretended to hold him. The ropes were loose, and because of that they didn’t break when he did so. 

Right. Mahanon had asked him not to break these, hadn’t he? Even if he was a cruel little flirt, he had been a fun one to flirt with. Helped the time pass. Was also easy on the eyes, which was a pleasant bonus. “Hey!” The Iron Bull shouted, raising his voice to carry it through the hut’s fabric. “HEY!” He repeated, increasing the volume when there was no immediate response. An elf poked their head in, frowning at him with accusatory eyes. “Tell Mahanon I’m ready to confess my very evil qunari plans.” The Bull said, his sentence not fully finished before the elf’s eyes got wide with excitement and they were scurrying away to deliver the news.

Simpletons were nice, because they got jobs completed so very quickly. 

In minutes, Mahanon was back in the hut but instead of his usual smile there was a disapproving sound. The Bull’s smile remained, because it didn’t matter that the elf was unimpressed with him. What mattered was he would be seeing the Chargers soon, and he was making good on his word. "Evil Qunari plans? Really? Getting half our women hot and bothered to increase our birth rates is a more strange plan than evil one." Mahanon accused.

A barking laugh left the Bull, and the best he could respond with was, "Half the women and you, you mean." The correction came with more laughter, while the elf remained unphased by the comment. 

“Oh, I'm hot, and I'm bothered, but certainly not in the way you want. What are you ready to tell me, Bull?" Mahanon inquired, diving in straight to the point. The elf was no fool, and had to already suspect the loud bang was connected with the Bull’s sudden willingness to get chatty.

“I kind of need to kick it. Don't get me wrong, this was a fantastic vacation and you are attractive, but time to go back to work. You asked me to not break your ropes, so either you let me go or they’re going to break.” These last few days, the Bull had to marvel at how of all the things he had to threaten in his lifetime to accomplish his tasks, that his greatest leverage involved rope. It took some personal reminders that Mahanon was not an innocent, naive elf that never considered the real threat the Bull could pose. The elf was plenty aware. The rope was little more than a request to know if the situation remained civil. 

“Tell me why you're here. If it was worth you wasting my time, I'll get you out of here no fuss.” Mahanon promised, left hand massaging each of his right’s fingers in turn. An action the Bull witnessed many times in their conversations, and was activated more by some form of discomfort than that of a nervous disposition. Those hands regularly bothered the elf, a trait that stood out because this was the first elf that the Bull watched suffer this problem so young. The action was reminiscent of older folk, usually individuals who’s lives were dedicated to writing and recording the world around them.

“I promise it isn't a waste. But, do me a favor, and threaten me with a 'this better be good or else,' to think about while I rub one off later.” The Iron Bull requested, giving a wink that the elf knew was not a blink, going in for one last flirtation before leaving this place. 

“...This had better be good or else you're going to maul through my people, and I'm sorry, I just can't have relations with someone that mauls through my people.” Mahanon said, shaking his head almost piteously as he looked down at the ‘prisoner.’ The elf wasn’t even playing along - that was just hurtful. What had Krem done to get these elves’ panties into such a twist? 

“Ouch. Fine. The humans think you're kidnapping their kids -”

“And dragons are big, what else do you have?” Mahanon cut in, a tendency to interrupt that garnered a frown from the Bull. Someone was irritable. 

“We were hired to kill your clan and get the kids back. Clearly, you don’t have the kids. Or patience.” The Iron Bull noted, his own frustration coming into play because it was entirely plausible the elf started to look into things since the Bull wasn’t talking. And why would he? Just asking the clan, ‘hey you kidnap kids to sacrifice them’ would not have gone over well or received viable answers. Honest, sure, but without proper prodding the Bull would have had no way of knowing. 

Releasing his wrist, Mahanon blew out a long breath and simply stared at the qunari. He allowed his head to fall to the side, hair following after in a half-braided mess that made the Bull wonder if Mahanon ever actually finished the knots or always lost interest partway through. The elf’s right hand fell to its correlated thigh, gently drumming on it as he watched his ‘prisoner’ with an impassive mask. 

Questions festered between the two, and the Bull weighed if his curiosity should delay him any further. 

“Yes.” Mahanon stated, nodding his head once. “I was informed you were here to either find out where we keep the brats or confirm we're not kidnapping them.” He continued, that guarded face falling way to its hinted smiles again. Lifting up his right hand, Mahanon’s eyes looked down at his fingers as he worked the joints. “It's funny, your Chargers said you were typically up front about this sort of thing, and it took you a week to tell me. I gave you so many opportunities, too.” He drawled, green eyes finally looking from his hands to catch a gray one. A smile was firmly in place, victorious at the stare the Bull was giving him.

Mahanon had tracked down his Chargers and knew the whole time.

That combined with the shit-eating grin the elf was giving the Bull right then, was so much hotter than it should have been. 

“Do you want me to break these ropes?” The Bull asked, not entirely sure if his end goal when he was released was to find Krem or grab the goading piece of ass in front of him.

“No.” Mahanon replied quickly, coming back from his slight victory to hurry over towards where the Bull was still tied. The ropes came undone in quick work, and Bull wasted no time standing while reminding himself he was on a mission. The mission was not bending the elf over a table. It was saving children.

The children. He had to think of the children.

And the desire to avert demons. Because fuck demons. 

“I've already informed my Keeper this would happen. Come on, Krem wanted to update you himself.” Mahanon requested, motioning for the Bull to follow as he took long strides towards the door. Still maintaining that distance. Sliding through the hut door, the Bull squinted in the evening light. By the hut was a table, with his weapons and armor resting comfortably. Waiting for him. Not too far away was Mahanon, sliding on a quiver full of arrows and bow. 

Mahanon was coming with him.

Krem was working with Mahanon. The damn elf slunk off, tracked down the Chargers, and was working with them. Probably giving them updates about their leader. Sneaky little asshole, the Bull was fucking loving it. Too many jobs had shitty beginnings, middles, and ends. This one? This one was doing great. If this sort of luck held strong, maybe they would get to save the kids and not deal with demons. As if that wasn’t delusional wishful thinking. 

Gear on and weapon in hand, the Bull had to ask, “You've seriously been in contact with my guys this entire time?”

“Almost, yes. Too many things didn't add up, and you weren't talking. I'm too hands-on to sit back.” Mahanon confessed, grinning up at him as the elf began to lead the two through the village. Several of the Dalish were watching the two, curious and accusatory. Blondie was there, flaring their nostrils at the Bull. In the name of keeping the peace, the Bull blew a kiss at them.

The disgusted expression was magnificent. 

“You should try sitting back sometime, let someone else do all the work. Feels good.” The Bull suggested as the two walked, Mahanon keeping several paces in front. As a test, the Bull increased his own speed. As expected, the elf also hastened his steps, never allowing the distance between the two to get too close. _Which of us are you not trusting, Elf?_ The Bull wondered.

“Pass.” Was all Mahanon answered him with, giving the thought no time to fester. The trek was short and quick, perhaps ten minutes time before the two came across Krem and Rocky. The dwarf appeared all too pleased with his efforts, and the Bull gave him a wry grin now better understanding what about the signal irritated Clan Lavellan so.

"Getting closer." Rocky greeted the two eyes alight seeing his boss. 

"If that was close to qunari gaatlok, we'd all be dead." The Bull reminded the other, and despite this fact being what saved lives, Rocky's shoulders drooped in disappointment. The Bull liked Rocky. The two shared much in common. Of all the Chargers, Rocky often matched The Bull when it came to drinking in excess, had an equal passion for mayhem, and his dwarven beard demanded to be appreciated.

Also, the two had sex a few times in the past and in this way The Bull learned not only how durable dwarves were, but also how dense their body mass was. Though shorter than both elves and humans, Rocky was heavier than either. 

"We wouldn't have allowed him to do anything to threaten your clan or the chief." Krem assured Mahanon, who's eyes were daggers piercing into an oblivious Rocky. The glare remained for another few seconds, before the elf let out a breath and let it be. Krem looked to Rocky, shook his head, and then turned to his boss. "It's pretty much what you expected, Chief. We saw a cloaked figure skulking about, dragging a bag off to the noble's home. Kidnapping kids, blaming elves, same shit different town. Skinner says she might've seen a demon through one of the windows, so there's that."

"There's more, isn't there?" The Bull asked, rotating his shoulders, getting his body ready for action. 

"Yeah. Elves in the alienage been going missing for months. Humans in town been getting sick, said the illness was an elven curse and think the ones going missing were just the Maker punishing them." Krem continued, beginning to walk towards the town as he spoke. 

"Think people getting sick is related to demons?" The Bull asked. Destruction was his specialty, whereas demons were an unsettling mage thing he tried to avoid if possible. An attempt made all the more difficult by the war between templars and mages, especially as the two sides grew more desperate. 

It was starting to feel like Seheron again. 

"Not sure. Possible." Krem shrugged. "Duke Antoine's made a lot of improvements to the city lately. But if he's summoning demons, probably related." 

"Fear really does kill logic. If elves truly could place such curses, at least half of the humans would already be dead." Mahanon remarked, keeping pace with the group from the side. 

"Only half? That sounds very optimistic. I figured we'd simply be extinct." Krem replied, hand on his sword as he walked. Eyes watching the trees, where subtle cuts had been made to help backtrack. 

"A third left is most realistic, I am just trying to make a good impression." Mahanon answered, a playful wink sent towards Krem. The human laughed.

"Chief, was he good to you?" Krem asked the Bull. "Because his impression is the one that matters."

"No lapdances. Worst hostage situation I've ever been in." The Iron Bull said, tilting his head to the side, this way and that, as he walked through the trees to keep his horns from catching on branches.

"Do you normally get lapdances when captured?" Mahanon inquired, raising a brow over at him. 

"No. But you could have set a trend." The Bull laughed, and the group continued their chatting along the way. The clan's location wasn't exceptionally far from the town, but the group took a more roundabout route to slip into the less active areas. The Chargers had surprise in their favor, by the duke believing that the mercenaries he hired were invested in getting their leader back and saving the kids from the elves. 

If demons were involved, the Bull wanted as much advantage as possible. Those things were absolute shits to deal with.


End file.
